


Legacy Within

by MooMooEverlasting



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aggressive OMC, Alive Hale siblings, Alpha Derek Hale, Asphyxiation Kink, Badass Erica, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Domestic Violence, Endgame Sterek, Hurt!Stiles, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Out of Character, Protective!Derek, Scott is a Bad Friend, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooMooEverlasting/pseuds/MooMooEverlasting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pack become concerned when Stiles begins to alienate himself from them due to an ongoing relationship with new kid Rafael Tucker. Peter knows what's happening because the exact same thing happened to him.</p><p>[Or the one where Stiles winds up in an abusive relationship and tries to cover it up by avoiding the pack. But Peter knows better. Endgame Sterek, of course.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger Danger!

"I call the recliner!"

"No fair! I already claimed it, Erica."

"Shut up Scott, I claimed it _way_ before you did!"

Derek grits his teeth as the two teenagers bicker, his sea green eyes flashing briefly in annoyance. Clenching his fists tightly, he somehow manages to not sink his claws into the pulsing throats of his pack-mates. All they ever seemed to do was fight. Fight fight fight, that's all they ever did when they entered the old Hale house. Was it too much to ask for ONE measly day of peace and quiet? Of course not, considering the universe must be out to end Derek Hale. It was the only plausible conclusion as to why he had to deal with hormonal teenagers on a day to day basis without rest. 

"Enough!" The Alpha finally snaps, his voice coming out tight as he struggled to regain control over his rising impatience when Scott wolfs out on the blonde female, who simply flashes her golden eyes in retaliation. "I'll take the recliner and you kids can sit your asses down on the couch. **NOW!** " His Alpha voice seemed to do the trick as the command had his betas scrambling to the said couch across from the subject of argument. 

Erica shoots Scott one last deadly glare before she flicks curly locks over her shoulder and takes her place by Boyd's side, who's shoulders were shaking slightly with barely contained laughter. 

As promised, the dark haired male makes his way to the dark brown recliner and takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as his critical gaze peers over to the crowded couch where the rest of his pack sat, waiting. Clearing his throat as the last of his anger subsides, he begins. "Has anyone spoken to Jackson or Stiles lately?"

"Jackson had to help Coach clean up the field," Isaac offers from his place next to Scott. "Er, I don't know about Stiles."

Scott frowns slightly at the mention of his ex-best friend. "Yeah, I haven't talked to him lately. He's been kind of...distracted."

"Distracted?" Derek says, his expressive eyebrows raising to his hairline. "He's always had focus issues. What's the difference now?"

Shifting in discomfort, the tall beta's frown only deepens further and he rings his hands in his lap and answers in a slow voice. "He uh...he has a special someone in his life now. Been dating them for a couple of months now. I only just found out about it yesterday because Cora told me."

The wolf inside of Derek growls possessively at the mention of someone staking a claim on Stiles. Derek shushes him immediately, the air around the room suddenly growing tense. Squaring his shoulders, the werewolf turns his undivided attention to the puppy-eyed beta across from him, who was currently staring at his sneakers as if they were the most interesting thing since sliced bread. "Who is she? Do we know her?" Derek inquires, trying to keep his voice level and unwavering even though he felt like roaring his outrage to the world. 

" _He_ is a new kid at school. I've only seen him a few times before, mainly after Lacrosse practice. So no, we don't know him."

The whole time they talked, Erica was growing a thoughtful look on her face. Crossing one leg over the other, she turns her head to give Boyd a long look before finally talking. "Do you think he's talking about that one guy that we saw talking with Batman earlier? They seemed awfully close."

"Which guy?" Boyd asks, using his blunt human nails to scratch at his scruff. All eyes turn to stare at Erica as she clucks her tongue in a disapproving manner and rolls her eyes.

"The only person other than us that actually talks to Stiles! Hmm, he was tall. Like, taller than Scott. He has dark hair, fabulous blue eyes, muscles, a smokin' hot ass-"

"Rafael Tucker!" Isaac suddenly blurts out, his eyes blowing wide. He sits up straighter at his revelation, ignoring the way Erica hisses at him for interrupting her. "It's got to be him. He's the only new kid I know of."

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Derek growls low in his throat, startling everyone present in the room. "I want you all to keep an eye on him. This kid could possibly be a threat to the pack if he's targeted Stiles, and I don't want to take any chances. Scott, see what you can find out about him. Isaac, you and Boyd see if you can convince Stiles to bring his 'boyfriend' to one of our pack meetings. That way, I'll be able to pick up any supernatural scent if he's got one. And someone text Jackson and let him know that he and Erica will be keeping an eye on Stilinski. Just in case. We don't know what this guy's capable of." 

~*****~

Rafael closes the door to his one room apartment, making sure to lock it up securely behind of him before he makes his way down the walkway to the steel stairs. The parking lot is mostly barren, as usual, save a few cars and a couple of older men passing a joint between the two of them. It never failed to amaze him how the junkies seemed to flock to this particular area, no matter what time of day or night. 

Shaking his head and muttering to himself to no one in particular, the broad shouldered male takes the last step slowly and walks across the parking lot to his Jeep, twirling his keys as he goes. Just then, his phone goes off, as expected. Pulling it out of his pocket, the young man clicks 'accept' and puts the phone to his ear expectantly. "Hello?"

_Hey Rafe. Just wanted to see if you were still coming over tonight._

Hearing the tenor voice of his boyfriend, an unexpected smile graces his features as he unlocks his car and opens the door, climbing in quickly to escape the bitter cold of winter. "You know I am. Is everything okay?" There's a moment of silence that stretches out between the lines before the other man replies in a timid voice.

_Er, yeah. Um, about that. You see, the funniest thing happened earlier today. Soooo I was at the grocery store, getting junk food and stuff for our sleepover, and guess who I ran into? Erica Reyes! Crazy, right? So we got to talking and...Imayormaynothaveinvitedherover. I'm sorry! I should have called earlier and told you before we made our plans, but I just couldn't say no to her. She gave me those kicked puppy eyes, and I practically melted right then and there. I can't say no to that. Then we hugged and she said she would bring some video games. So uh, yeah, that happened...You aren't mad, are you?_

Just like that, Rafael's smile suddenly turns dark and he purses his lips into a tight pink line as he starts up his jet black jeep, not bothering to put on his seat belt. "No, I'm not mad."

_Great! I'll just-_

"I'm not mad," he repeats, successfully interrupting the jumble of words that were bound to leave his boyfriend's mouth if left unchecked. Seriously, this kid needed to tape a warning label to his forehead. "I'm beyond pissed, in fact. The hell were you thinking, Stilinski? This was supposed to be our night, and just because some werewolf bitch gives you sad eyes, you think you can just throw that all away? I can't believe you. I thought you were better than this," he fumes, his one hand tight against the studded steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot, knuckles turning white from his iron hold. 

_I know, I know, I know! Look, we always see each other. Lately, I haven't been able to see my friends much, unfortunately. We could always reschedule-_

"Reschedule?! Oh, so now us getting together was 'unfortunate'? Well, SO sorry for keeping you from seeing your friends," Rafael snarls. If his foot presses the gas just a tad bit harder, causing his car to lurch forward, then no one has to know. 

_You know I didn't mean that! Stop being so dramatic, Rafe. Either you come and accept the fact that she's there, or you don't come at all! Simple as that._

Oh hell no! "Don't you dare talk to me like I'm a child! Who the fuck do you think you are, throwing around orders like that. Huh? Well?"

_Oh my god, Rafe-_

"No, Stiles. You listen to me. You're going to call this Erica chick and tell her that there's been a change of plans. I'm on my way now, and if I see a car other than your jeep in your driveway, then I swear to fucking god I will beat your ass. Now, do _you_ understand?"

There's an indignant squeak on the other end of the line, and Rafael's chest bubbles at the sound. _Excuse me? Fuck you Rafael. Don't even bother coming over._ Before he can roar back into the phone with another threat, there's an audible click and then the line goes dead. 

Stiles hung up on him. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Well, two can play at that game.


	2. Sass + Ass = A bad night for Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica tries to figure out what's wrong with Stiles. Meanwhile, Chris decides to revert back to his old ways of handling a sassy Peter. A pissed off Derek ensues.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: Non consensual touching, verbal abuse, and strong language.

Erica pops another tic-tac into her mouth, her dull human teeth grinding on the hard outer shell. She had been walking for nearly twenty minutes now, managing to only trip once over an unsuspecting oak root. Above her, the sky was gradually darkening, the sun barely visible over the horizon. 

She exhales loudly, a puff of fog escaping past her plump pink lips. The air around of her was chilly and frigid, even for a werewolf. After walking around for twenty minutes, the teen was beginning to regret not wearing something with a little more warmth to it; her sleeveless floral shirt wasn't helping her not one bit against the freezing temperature. 

After ages of walking and avoiding protruding roots and vines, the seventeen year old werewolf spots the faint outline of the Stilinski residence. As she gets closer she notices that the cruiser is gone, meaning the Sheriff was probably out on night duty. 

As she makes her way over to the roadside in preparation to cross, she begins to think more in dept of Stilinski's place in the Pack. Stiles is clumsy, annoyingly sarcastic, and he doesn't know when to stop talking. Yet he was bright for his age, that much was true. He did all of the research for them whenever they couldn't figure something out about something of the supernatural. Stiles would arrive at pack meetings with dark bags under his eyes and bloodshot whites from where he had stayed up all night researching on his laptop. He was valuable, that was true, but he was also reckless. His ignorance of his species often gets him -and more often than not, the pack- in loads of trouble. He'll charge headfirst into a throng of fighting werewolves if he thinks he can do something to help his friends. 

So yes, her batman possessed many fine qualities that tended to outweigh the bad ones. Apart from his consistent yapping, he was courageous, compassionate, and overly friendly. Just thinking about him put a smile to Erica's face. He didn't need claws or fangs to be a fighter. 

Her dark brown wedges crunch over the gravel of his driveway, her eyes refusing to even look at the horrid blue jeep that was parked mere feet away from her. It was most definitely an eyesore, but it had a special place in his friend's heart. Who was she to tell him to sell it and get something that didn't break down every few days? 

Scenting the air, she could already smell Stiles through the door when she steps confidently onto the oak wood porch. Underneath his delicious brown sugar and vanilla scent was the smell of anger and hurt. Furrowing her perfectly trimmed eyebrows at the door as if it had personally offended her, she doesn't even bother knocking. She just turns the unlocked knob and steps through the doorway, almost slamming the door behind of her in her haste to get to Stiles. 

_Pack. Hurt. Comfort._ Her wolf chants in her mind, trying to claw its way to the surface at the confusing scents. The smell of her pack mates emotions was nearly overwhelming. Her enhanced senses lead the anxious werewolf to the kitchen, where Stiles was leaning against the counter. 

The human was slouched over, his knuckles white from the tightness of his grip on the counter edge. His honey brown eyes were dull, a stark contrast to his usual witty gaze.

"Stiles?" She calls out to him, pushing down her wolf so that she could keep her voice even and calm.

He looks up, staring at his friend for a hot minute before finally blinking out of his daze. His cupid lips curl gently at the edges despite his lost look, possibly trying to appear as if nothing was wrong. But Erica knew better than that. She could see right past his little show. "Oh, uh, hey there Bat Girl."

"Hey...are you okay?" She asks in a near inaudible voice. Stiles sighs, relinquishing his grip on the counter top in favor of running his spindle-like fingers through his ruffled hair.

"Yeah, just a bit tired." His heart ticks at the lie, and Erica winces.

"Stilinski-"

"Wanna watch a movie?" Stiles abruptly interrupts her, already moving towards the fridge. "I've got...cheese? Dammit! I forgot to go to the store." He groans as he stares into the empty fridge he had opened as he was talking. 

Shocked by his sudden change of mood, Erica chooses to remain quiet, her lips pursed into a fine line. Did he not trust her? Why wasn't he telling her anything? She is pulled out of her troubled thoughts when she hears her friend calling for her from the living room. When did he get past her? 

+0+

{Chris POV}

Chris chugs down the last of his beer, ocean blue eyes watching his partner waltz around the house as he organizes the bedroom. He was sitting in his desk chair, legs kicked out in a stretched position, lazily chugging down a beer. 

Peter finishes putting a book back into its rightful place, giving the shelf a quick once over before moving on to the next project.

The hunter eyes the other man with a scrutinizing glare. He watched attentively at the slight swing of Peter's hips whenever he walked. He glowered at the way his boyfriend would clamp down onto his plump bottom lip with his pearly whites, turning the tender flesh a delicious dark pink. He growls when the fabric of the wolf's sweatpants stretch across the plump spans of his ass, the delicate fabric hugging his hips beautifully. Before long, Chris was painfully hard just by watching his man clean. And the sweet smell of sugar cookies wasn't helping to dampen his hard-on either.

As usual, the werewolf scents his arousal before he even has time to voice it himself. Crystal blue eyes roll dramatically, lips curling up in disgust. "Do you ever _not ___think about sex?" Peter gripes, turning around and placing his hands on his hips.

Chris raises a single eyebrow at this, empty beer forgotten. For now. "When you're not around, yes. I can't help that your putting out your stink like a bitch in heat."

__

"I happen to smell amazing, thank you very much." Peter rolls his eyes again, just for the added dramatics of the situation. He brings a hand up to rub at his scruff, visibly cringing at the feel. "Don't let me forget to shave before I leave."

__

"You're not staying the night?" Chris sits up straighter on the bed, muscles tensing. "I do recall that you made a promise-"

__

"-A promise to _attempt __to make an attempt at staying, and I did." Peter lets his hand drop back down to his side, wincing when Chris lets out a near inhuman growl. "Now, now. There's no need for that."_

__

Chris narrows his eyes at the sardonic tone of voice in the older man's voice. His eyes search the other's face, looking for any sign of seriousness. There was none found. "So, is our relationship a joke to you?"

"What?" All humor was gone from his voice as he gives his mate a long, careful look. Chris could see the gears turning in the man's head, and when it seemed to click into place, the wolf cautiously takes a step back away from the bed. "Not this again. You said you got help."

Chris throws his head back and lets out a dark chuckle, swinging his legs around so that he could sit at the end of the bed. "Help? Now, when did I ever say that?" The hunter stands up off of the bed, tilting his head curiously to the left, eyes sinister as they examine his boyfriend like a prize won at a carnival. "You must be exhausted if you think I promised that. Maybe you need to lay down for a bit."

The sudden calmness of his stature had the werewolf taking another step back, his eyes flashing a bright blue in warning. "I already told Derek I was on my way home. I think I should head off now." He attempts to take another step back, but without warning, Chris takes two long strides and crosses the room to stand before him.

"And I think you should stay. I'm sure Derek won't notice if your an hour or two late. You're never on time anyways." Chris nearly spits out the last sentence, the words laced with an even deeper meaning that made the older Hale cringe outwardly, bottom lip twitching at the insult. If there was one thing Chris knew how to do well, it was pushing the right buttons.

"Chris-"

"Come on, Petey. You know as well as I do that you're not leaving. You may have fangs and claws, but I've got guns and knives. I would be more than happy to inject you with a syringe full of wolfsbane. Is that what you want? To be completely immobilized?" Chris lets out a near maniacal laugh at this, his teeth flashing in the lighting of his room. "But you should be used to being immobilized, after being in a coma for so long, that is. No one visited you, Peter. No one. Not even your dear nephew. Even when Laura was alive, she didn't bother to drop by and check on your progress. No one to hold your hand while you writhed in pain. No one to wipe away your tears whenever you dreamed of that horrid night when you let your family burn alive. Poor Peter. So alone..." 

By the end of the sentence, Chris had made his way forward until he was nearly nose to nose with the trembling male. The hunter's expression grows soft by the time he eventually trailed off, eyes reflecting mock sympathy for the werewolf. "So lonely. No friends, no family...Well, no family that cares about you."

"That's not true, I have a pack. Pack is family," Peter finally speaks up, lifting his chin in a small act of defiance. And it would have been believable if his voice didn't shake with those words, as if he wasn't to sure himself.

Argent tsks, bringing a hand up run his fingers tenderly across his boyfriend's cheek. "Do you? You're the creepy uncle that stands just a bit too close, or stares for a bit too long. You're a burden to them. You know this."

The werewolf whines loudly in response, his inner wolf no doubt mourning over the sad truth of those sentences. He doesn't attempt to move away from those gentle fingers that now grazed across his jaw line, trailing down to touch his throat before stopping. 

"That's why you come over to my house so often. Wolves are social creatures; they thrive in the security of having a pack. But you've been denied this, so you crave it more than ever. Do I not always provide for you?"

Peter's eyes flash again, but his gaze lacks any real heat. He shifts his gaze to stare off to the left, refusing to meet his lover's eyes. 

The fingers against his neck suddenly wrap around his throat, the fingertips clenched tightly against the tender skin in an iron grip. Peter groans and tilts his chin up, trying to expose as much of his throat as possible. His submission sends blood rushing straight to Chris' groin, and he moans soon after.

"I always provide. I'm always here for you. Yet just like last time, you take advantage of this. I'm not a toy, wolf. I can't just be used and then left behind whenever your done."

"Yet, you do that to me all the time. It's amazing how hypocrisy works," Peter replies dryly, visibly regretting his words if his groan of distress was anything to go by. "Shit."

He has time to get out that one word before Chris bursts. He releases his hold from his victim's throat, only to swing his fist into the other man's sturdy jaw.

Peter reels back, head snapping to the side after the collision. He stumbles slightly but doesn't fall, already regaining his sense of equilibrium. "What the fuck!"

"You never know when to quite, do you?" Chris snarls, bringing his hand back and using the wolf's current unbalance to backhand him. Hard. The smack is loud enough to echo off of the walls, and it rings deliciously in Chris' ears. It'd been so long since he's done this...the feeling of power he got from dominating over a creature so unpredictable was...enticing.

This time, Peter falls. A couple well placed kicks to his abdominal area keeps him from getting back up right away. The man gasps, clutching at stomach. "Why aren't I healing? What did you do to me?!"

"Remember that drink you had earlier?" Chris crouches down next to Peter, reaching forward to run a single finger across the man's clothed hip. "Wolfsbane can do amazing things, can't it?" 

"No..."

"Goodnight Peter." With that said, Chris gives the wolf one last glare before sending a well aimed punch against the man's temple. The world goes black for the werewolf, and he goes limp within moments.


End file.
